Here is the first review of Apart From Love from the UK. A. Rose is a Top Amazon Reviewer:
A Beautifully Crafted Triangle of Love, 9 May 2012 By A. RoseHere is the first review of Apart From Love from the UK. A. Rose is a Top Amazon Reviewer:
A Beautifully Crafted Triangle of Love, 9 May 2012 By A. Rose (Devon & Menorca) - See all my reviews (TOP 500 REVIEWER) (VINE VOICE) (REAL NAME) This review is from: Apart From Love (Paperback) The story is told from the viewpoints of Ben and Anita. Ben is the adult son of Lenny who has been estranged from his parents for the past ten years, with Ben blaming his father for the break up of the family when Lenny and Natasha divorced. Anita is Lenny's new wife who is pregnant, the same age as Ben and also has an uncanny resemblance to Natasha, so much so they could have been taken as sisters - but in appearance only. Natasha was a beautiful and talented concert pianist with elegance and grace to match. Whereas Anita is rough, ill educated, dresses brashly and her speech is no better than `street talk'. What Ben didn't know was that even when he was a child at home living with both his parents, his mother was in the early stages of Alzheimer's Disease and that this progressed to the stage where Lenny divorced her and had her cared for in a home. The marriage wasn't always happy with Lenny having many affairs and flings but Anita, one of his flings, had been around for ten years or so before he married her following an unplanned pregnancy.
Without giving more of the story away, there are many facets to each persons story and all have their hopes, fears and revelations. The love between Ben and Anita which both of them hide as much from themselves as each other, is a slow burn, almost dangerous dance that is more in their heads than physical. Lenny is a little bit like a spy listening to tape recordings of both Ben and Anita's thoughts, playing and rewinding the tapes over and over, torturing himself in preparing their words for the novel he is writing.
Uvi Poznasky is a very talented lady, not only is she a very accomplished writer, she is a poet, sculptor, artist, teacher and much more. The beautiful cover of the book is of one of her works of art and after visiting her website I see that she is indeed gifted and worth taking a look at uviart.com . This is a beautiful and sophisticated novel of love, loss and torture and well worth reading.
This book is a collection of Hebrew poems by my father, the poet Zeev Kachel, edited and published posthumousely. So if you read Hebrew, treat yourselThis book is a collection of Hebrew poems by my father, the poet Zeev Kachel, edited and published posthumousely. So if you read Hebrew, treat yourself to a wonderful reading experience. If you have a friend who speaks the language, this would be a great gift. Just to give you a taste of his soulful poetry, here is one of the poems, translated.
I live here on paint and on toxoid By Zeev Kachel Translated from Hebrew by Uvi Poznansky
I live here on paint and on toxoid My step faltering, against walls, against barriers Around me I see nature destroyed Replaced by some structures for settlers. I live here with no joy, no regret And scribble little rhymes just for me I live... No longer preach at the gate, Nor squash any ants carelessly. In their hiding place they seem to await And observe me, in all probability.
I live with no account and no friend No longer try to right wrongs in the world, I cannot tell my future, my end Simply listen to the waves, to my heart. At set, prescribed times I just swallow Pills coded by various pigments And let my mind labor to follow The secret paths of this universe.
It is clear to me now: There is no amity There has never been any beginning, And all that is here, that is growing Was here and it always will be. In space there is no upper or lower No right and no left all around, The moment is here, with no past, no forever There is no first, no last or well-found. Only an unending, unstoppable flow And shapes that are shifting at will There is no heaven, only hell and owe There is time, there is space, there is still. There is no happiness, no sorrow, no feeling Only waves dancing without and within In a struggle with no hatred, no foaming Without saints, without angels or sin.